


By The Grace of Whoever The Hell Is In Charge

by ErLiAu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Gen, Season 9, Spoilers, after season 9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1669661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErLiAu/pseuds/ErLiAu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he woke as a demon, Dean's attempts to fit in may end badly for everyone involved - except him, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hiding The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> CONTAINS SEASON 9 SPOILERS - DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT MAJOR SPOILERS
> 
> *I made this when my feels overwhelmed me. I just wanted to tell the story as I saw it unfolding in my head. This is based on canon; I will try to remain true to the story, and the characters. If I have made any kind of mistake, grammar, story, spelling, or otherwise, please let me know.*  
> Also, I'm using this as a chance to explore demons and their physiology. I imagine Dean's got some adjusting to do!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's woken up, and the reality of this situation hasn't really hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fiction; I started writing on a whim with no structure, so I'm trying to make this work! I hope you enjoy!

Dean slowly sat up, turning his head as he drunk in the view. Crowley stood over him, a slightly worried work on his face, though a beam of smug satisfaction cut through. Crowley’s eyes were now red - there’s no need to pretend anymore, after all.

  
Pushing him aside, Dean rose from the bed, then looked at the King of Hell, who had landed on the floor. Huh - his strength was tenfold what it used to be. Go figure.

  
Dean, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt, then stopping as he realized what a Crowleyesque move it was, looked down at the red-eyed demon. “I thought things would look different,” he joked. Blinking and peering around the room, Dean stepped over Crowley’s splayed legs, and reached for the door handle.

  
“No!” Crowley cried, scrambling up from the floor, all pride and dignity lost as he grabbed Dean’s pant leg. “You mustn’t go out there. Sam doesn’t know you’re–“

  
“Well, it’s about time he did, no?” Dean looked at the man he’d once considered strong, and kicked him away. He didn’t leave the room, however. He sat down heavily in a nearby seat, and rubbed his forehead. “Are headaches normal?” He ground out.

  
Crowley looked at Dean, not a scrap of sympathy in his gaze. “It’ll pass. It’s because of the high definition.” Crowley blinked, his eyes human in appearance once again.

  
Dean tried to do the same, and as he blinked, a terrible pain shot through his head. He hissed, clawing at his eyes.

  
Crowley yelled, “Don’t try it! You’ll rip your eyes out - though at least then they won’t give you away…”

  
Dean, head still in his hands as he pinched the bridge of his nose, asked in a muffled voice, “What do you mean?”

  
“Well, you won’t be able to hide your eyes for a while. I suggest sunglasses, though they might seem a bit suspicious. Now allow me to fake a deal with your brother so your sudden life makes sense.”

  
The man disappeared, leaving Dean to adjust to his new powers. Struggling to stand, Dean squinted; everything really was “high definition,” as Crowley had put it. Wandering over to the bedside table, he picked up his iPod, trying to look at his reflection.

  
Though he’d expected them, the pitch black eyes shocked him; after a lifetime of conditioning, he’d come to despise them, and had to fight his gut reaction to shoot himself in the gut. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Mark of Cain, which pulsed with a new power. He clenched his fist and watched as the brand flickered red orange, and some other color he couldn’t really explain. As he looked up from his arm, he realized this was a common theme.

  
He’d heard someone say that different species had different color receptors; the mantis shrimp apparently had 16 - it seemed demons had more than humans. No wonder the world was so clear.  
As he pondered this, his door flew open. Sam stormed into the room, calling his name.

  
“Dean?! Dean!” Sam rushed over to him, and wrapped his arms around his brother. As he was enveloped, Dean immediately shut his eyes, screwing up his face as he felt his bones crunch.

  
“Sammy.” He gasped, his heart gripped by panic. What if his brother saw his eyes?

  
His face suddenly felt hot, and the back of his eyelids flashed red. He blinked open his eyes to see Crowley in the doorway, who pointed at his own eyes, then Dean’s.

  
Understanding washed over him, and he relaxed into Sam’s arms. He returned the hug, thumping Sam on the back and asking, “What happened?”

  
He felt his brother tense up, and let go of him. They both stepped back, and Dean looked him right in the eye, though he was afraid Crowley’s illusion would fail. “What happened?” He asked again, his voice rough as he stared down his brother. Might as well turn up the act.

  
Sam fidgeted under Dean’s hard gaze, looking at his hands, feet, the lamp, anything but his brother. He finally whispered, “I made a deal with Crowley.”

  
“What?!” Dean yelled. He reached out and grabbed the lamp, trying to emulate his former self. He felt hollow - all of his emotions were drained from him. Every move he made was calculated, meant to disguise his newfound lack of caring.

  
Sam cringed, dodging the lamp as it crossed the room and shattered against the wall. Crowley chuckled and said, “The lamp didn’t do anything to you, now did it?”

  
Dean looked at the demon, and said, “Stay out of this.”

  
Sam cleared his throat, and said, “Actually, he’s a part of it. I made a deal, Dean - to bring you back to life, in exchange for my soul.”

  
Dean looked at his brother. How would the old him respond? He remained silent for a long time, merely glowering at his brother. “How long?” He finally said.

  
“Ten years.” Sam said. Dean felt a flash of anger; his first genuine emotion since he’d woken. Maybe this was all demons felt? “Ten years, Dean. I have ten more years - who knows, I might die before then. I’m sorry, but I had to.”

  
Dean exploded. “I gave up my entire life for you! When I made a deal, I said one year. One. Year. And you said ten? That’s too much! What kind of a brother are you?! You go and make a deal in the first place, then decide you ‘need time’ on this stupid fucking earth!” He stopped ranting, realizing how silly it sounded as he said it out loud.

  
Sam shot him a look. “What do you mean, Dean? I wanted time to be with you! You’re my brother!” Dean cursed himself for reacting so badly.

  
Dean sat down on the bed, and dropped his head into his hands. “Let me get this straight. You sold your soul for me?”

  
Sam nodded, awkwardly standing. He finally settled into the chair, leaning on his knees. “Yes.” Shaking his head, he warbled, “I couldn’t lose you, not now, after everything we’ve gone through.” Tears began streaming down his face.

  
Dean groaned, “Come on, Sam, no chick flick moments.” He stood up and walked out of the room. Crowley and Sam followed him as he stormed into the study.

  
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t lose you. It took Crowley a long time to get here, and as I was waiting, I made some decisions about the deal.”

  
Crowley shrugged. “I tried to sweeten it, but he wouldn’t have it. I even offered him a better sex life.”

  
Dean forced a laugh and a smile. “Well, what’s done is done. Let’s just be glad I’m back and move on.”


	2. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Crowley begin trying to hide Dean's demon aspects, and they discover along the way that some things will have to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - I just finished school today! I love writing this; I just wish the paragraphs were separated better.

Crowley sat down next to Dean, who had pulled out his laptop and started searching for a new hunt. “You need lessons.”

  
Dean turned and stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  
Crowley glanced up at the entrance. Though Sam’s jogs usually lasted a good hour, the past few days he’d cut them short, opting instead to worry over his brother. Privacy was a thing of the past.  
“I mean if you expect to blend in, you can’t rely on my eyes.” As he said this, Crowley flicked his hand, and Dean pulled up the web camera. After he peeled off the tape over the lens (he didn’t exactly want to be stalked, after all) and wiped off the sticky residue, he looked at his eyes. Black as night. Or maybe hell. Or his soul – they do say your eyes are a window or some shit like that.  
“Well, it’s hard to do that with Sam hovering over me now.”

  
“Then tell him to give you some personal space. An hour or two a day - we can start with the eyes, work our way up from there.” Crowley shut the laptop. “Ask him now.” As Crowley said this, the front door closed, and Dean’s eyes burned.

  
“Hey,” Sam huffed as he walked down the stairs. “How’s it going? Any angry demons or rogue angels?”

  
Dean sat back in his chair with his coffee. “No. Just the one sitting right next to me.”

  
Sam chuckled, then dodged into the kitchen for a drink. Dean opened the laptop, opened a blank document, and started typing. Turning it to Crowley, he said, “What do you think of this hit? Demon activity?”

  
Crowley shook his head as he read. “I don’t think so. Doesn’t seem like any of my flock - maybe it’s a vampire or something.”

  
“Doubt it.” Dean said, pulling the laptop back. He quickly deleted the page and went back to the article he’d found earlier. As he expected, Sam walked up behind him and read the screen. “Yeah, definitely vamps. You want to check it out?”

  
“Of course. I’m tired of being cooped up in the bunker. Look, how about you go pack your bags - I’ll look for more on the murder.”

  
Crowley laughed as Sam left the room. “Nice line. ‘Say “no, it’s vamps’ after you’ve read this.” He nodded at Dean. “We can do classes on the road. The eyes will be easier to do if you’ve got a good motive.”

  
Dean, unamused by Crowley’s behavior - not that he was ever “amused” by anything nowadays - just shut the laptop. It was bothering his eyes, anyway.

Dean carried his bag out to the Impala, Crowley on his tail. As he slung the bag over his shoulder, he said, “Crowley, I know you want to come, but you could attract some baddies. We only want vamps.”

“What’s another hunter on hand going to hurt?” Crowley asked. “I am perfectly willing to help.”

Sam walked out of the garage with a gas can, and said, “Let him come, he probably just wants to keep an eye on me. make sure I don’t try to back out on our deal.” He snorted. “Not that I would, Crowley.”

Dean dropped the bag and reached for the trunk of the car. “Alright then, but he’s in a separate room.” He tugged on the back. “Sam, unlock the car.”

Sam looked at Dean. “It’s already unlocked.”

“Every door?”

“Yeah.” Sam hit the button again, then opened the back. The symbols painted on the hood glared at them. “See? Open.”

Dean sighed. He’d forgotten the car was demon-proofed. He’d have to modify it in some way. “Thanks, Sam.” He muttered, tossing his duffel in the trunk and shutting it. His hand burned as it came in contact with the metal. He shook it, trying to calm the red skin. To his surprise, it healed in mere seconds, the skin smoother than it’d been in ages.

After a few hours in the drivers’ seat, his eyes began to hurt; being behind the wheel in high definition was tiring. “Sam, you want to drive? I’m in the mood for a nap.”

His brother looked at him in confusion, then shrugged. Concern flashing in his eyes, he nodded; Dean pulled to the side of the road, and the three of them switched places. Sprawling across the back seats, he pretended to sleep.

Fifty miles later, Dean once again in charge of the car, they arrived. The small town, Silverstone, had recently become a hive of activity. Sam, off to find the library and ask around at the police station, left

Dean and Crowley to unpack.

Dean looked at the warding under the trunk. “Can I scratch it off, or something?” He asked. Crowley reached in and snatched Sam’s bag.

“Not sure,” he yawned. “Don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” He walked into the brothers’ room.

Dean picked up his bag, then tried to use his knife to flake off some paint. To his surprise, the knife began burning. He gave up, deciding to get Sam to break it.

“How ‘bout I tell Sam to break the symbol so you can get in?” Dean asked as he walked in. Crowley was nowhere to be seen. “Crowley?”

The dark-haired man poked his head out of the bathroom. “I hope my room is just as nice, Squirrel.” He walked out, wiping his hands off on his jacket. “Just as covered in mildew and mold.”

“You’ll get used to it, Crowley.” Dean grunted, falling back onto the bed. “Did you hear my question?”

“Yeah, yeah. It should work. Moose is extremely gullible.”

Dean sat up on his elbows. From here, he could see his eyes in the mirror; still black. “I noticed that. He really does think I’m human, doesn’t he?” Dean wasn’t quite so sure how that worked out. He

wasn’t the same; he lacked all emotion but anger and hatred, he never slept, even his voice sounded different.

“As a demon, you’re a very different person,” Crowley conceded. “To a demon. To a human, especially one desperate to believe in your humanity, you’re the same, and any difference can be explained by your recent death.”

Dean lifted himself up and stared into the mirror. He willed his eyes to go back to their human form - turn green. The searing pain came back.

“Gah! How do you do it?!” He cried, massaging his eyes. Crowley sat next to him.

“It’s not a change. Don’t worry, every fresh demon makes the same mistake. You just cover them with an illusion. Start over the pupil, where it’s already black. Then work your way out, making them green, then white, then purple, or whatever. Imagine you’re wearing contacts.”

Dean tried. He stood and walked up to the mirror. “Pupil. Iris. White.” He muttered. Finally, his left eye appeared as it always had - bright green. “How’s this?” He said triumphantly, turning to Crowley, He smiled, but the grin immediately fell away as he felt the illusion fade. “It takes focus.” Crowley explained, letting his eyes phase to red. He slowly built up his illusion. Dean tried to follow, but he couldn’t focus on both things at once. He jerked his head away, and threw a punch at the air. “Dammit!”

Crowley began chuckling, though he tried not to. Blurting the occasional giggle, he said, “Let’s try again, shall we?”

They spent an hour working; by the time he could form his illusion over both eyes at once, Dean’s brain was on fire. He flopped on the bed, half-heartedly waving at Crowley, who went to his room next door. Next thing Dean knew, Sam was opening the door.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam said, tossing his coat on the couch and clicking the lamp on. “How you feeling?” Dean turned over and covered his face, peeping through his fingers to see Sam’s face. He looked so concerned.

“I’ve got a headache, Sammy. Turn out the light.” He buried is face in the pillow once again. The light went out, and he waited for Sam to go to sleep.

As soon as Sam’s breathing was even, Dean opened the handy little door between their room and the demon next door - to find another door. Jiggling the handle, he hissed, “Crowley!”

The knob still in his hand, he found himself face to face with Crowley. “Jeez, Crowley!” He whispered, fighting to not jump back.

The demon raised his eyebrows suggestively, then stepped aside to let Dean in. Once both doors were closed, Dean turned to Crowley and said, “Let’s put this plan into action.”

Flipping a switch, Crowley’s bedside light came on, and they sat down, one in the office chair, the other on the bed.

“Ah, so this isn’t a booty call.” The King of Hell mused, his eyes burning red. Dean glared at him, then changed the subject.

“Our original plan was to do night lessons. Are you still on board?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get started.”

They spent hours practicing; by the end of the night, Dean could hold an illusion for about 15 minutes. Crowley nodded in approval. “Most don’t get this far by the first night.”

Dean, puzzled, said, “But it’s so easy once you understand the loopholes.”

“You’re different.” Crowley stood and walked over to the mini fridge. “You have the Mark of Cain.” He cracked open a bottle of wine. “Care for a taste?”

Dean shook his head; it was 6 in the morning. Sam was probably awake and on his jog, if they were lucky. He ducked through the connecting doors, to find Sam sitting up in his bed, staring at Dean.


	3. Hunt?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is starting to get suspicious, but everything is put on hold when their vampire is joined by a werewolf. And an angel. And a few demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me, what, all year to update? Anyway, I lost interest in this over the summer, but I'm reinvested now that I have the season 9 bluray and homework. Anyway, this hunt is based on a little idea I've been nursing for a while. I hope you enjoy!

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked, staring at his brother.

They stood with mere inches between them. Dean could feel Sam's scrutinizing eyes on his. He could feel the illusion wavering.

Crowley stood from the bed. "Boys-"

A phone rang in the other room.

Sam turned around to answer it. "Garth." He ran a hand through his hair and started muttering.

Turning to Crowley, Dean shot the King of Hell a questioning look. "What?"

"He made some calls while you slept." Crowley explained, pushing past Dean to stand next to Sam. Confused, Dean followed.

Sam closed the phone, nodding. "Okay, so we're dealing with something a little different here." He tossed the phone on the bed. "I asked Garth to look into the area, so we could see what we were walking into. With all of these angels and demons running around, well... you can't be too careful."

"And?" Dean asked, his voice fraught with worry, real worry. He definitely did not want to run into any demons; they could give him away.

"We were kind of wrong. Not kind of, actually. Very wrong." Sam pulled the curtain aside, looking out onto the dusty parking lot. The Impala was resting in a spot in front of their door. "There's about 4 dozen vampires in all, some weres, and a few djinn. There's even some demons, and recent signs show angel activity."

He tossed his hair back and slid his laptop out of its bag. Dean watched his brother carefully, sure he was lying. "Are you kidding me? How in the world is all of this happening in one puny town?"

Sam jabbed his finger at an article. "This."

Leaning in to read the screen, Dean blanched. "Silver Crescent International Academy for the Gifted. Including supernatural abilities?" He questioned.

Sam nodded. "First activity started when the founder moved in with her family. One Meredith Green, claiming to have mild mind control abilities. When she and her granddaughters moved in, local blood bank started running low on stock."

"Vamps covered, then."

"That's right. And the very first students, siblings frm Japan, moved in and strange graffiti started showing up. Here's some."

A series of spray-painted images appeared on the screen, ones Dean knew all too well. "Enochian sygils." He groused.

"Yep. And later, as more students joined, animals started turning up dead in the local park, odd noises were heard at night, one family even found their dog dead in their backyard with its stomach slit open."

"Damn." Dean whispered, shutting his eyes. The illusion over them failed. "What will we do?"

"Go and investigate." Sam said logically. "I say we start with the headmistress."


	4. Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean must interrupt his lessons to speak with Meredith Green, the surprisingly nice headmistress of Silver Crescent.

Dean pinched his brow as he shut the Impala door. High definition was definitely  _not_ good for driving.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked him, obviously concerned.

Dean felt cold anger grip him. "Fine!" He snapped.

Chuckling to try and calm the situation, Sam conceded, "Okay, but it is weird. I used to be the one who was all migraines and stuff, not you."

Settling on ignoring Sam, rather than hurting him, Dean walked up to the large wrought iron gate. He pressed a doorbell on the stone wall beside him and waited.

If he were still human, he would have jumped in surprise at the girl who dropped in front of him. His new and improved vision had alerted him, but he forced himself to at least react.

"Son of a bitch!" He yelped, covering his heart with his hand. The confusion that flashed across the girl's face told him it was a little too much. Crap.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" She said, her voice smooth. She had creamy white skin, sharp blue eyes, and dusty brown hair. She was thin, but short.

Dean looked up and realized a tree hung over the gate; she must have dropped out of it. "We, uh... we're reporters with the, uh... Chicago Starlight." He tried to speak, but something began happening to his eyes. He covered them with his hands.

"Tell the truth, demon."

Crowley swiftly stepped forward, pushing his protége out of the way. "We're here to speak with Meredith Green about what exactly she's planning." He flaunted his red eyes.

The young girl's eyes widened as she saw his eyes. "You must be Crowley." She said, motioning to his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Just investigating why some of my demons are congregating here." The King said simply, gesturing to Sam and Dean. "These hunters are here to help."

"Hunters?" She sounded suspicious. "Why do you need hunters?"

"To make sure they fulfill a contract." He replied testily. "Now, are you really going to leave the King of Hell on your doorstep?"

The gate finally opened. "I'm Sapphire." She told them. "Sorry about the eye thing; when you started spinning crap about being from Chicago, I knew something was wrong." She seemed to recognize one of the many children running through the courtyard. "Arabella, go and get Grandmother."

The young girl, who was quite the opposite of her apparent sister, had haunting red eyes and curly black hair. Though her skin was a shade darker, it was still the only clue that Sapphire and Arabella were related.

As Arabella dashed off, Dean glanced around the courtyard. "What's with this place?"

Obviously irritated, Sapphire answered, "Didn't your research tell you that?" Swallowing her sass, she continued more seriously, "This used to be a mine; these were the houses and apartments where the miners and their families lived. It was abandoned for a long time - the last resident died about 150 years ago. When my grandmother decided to use this as the dormitories, she fixed it up."

She led the group to a fat tree with kids crawling all over it. A concrete path circled it, and a dark patch stained one section. "Of course, some rooms are still unusable. Many have bad floors, or the walls are molded over. But the most interesting thing is the one that resisted time."

Sapphire pointed at the stain, explaining, "This is where the last resident landed after committing suicide."

Dean felt intrigued. "1764, and there's still a mark?" He asked.

Shrugging, the girl hazarded a guess. "I guess. Some people think there's some old crony comes in here every once in a while and smears dirt on it. Others think the ghost of the woman who died is protecting it, so her memory doesn't fade away."


End file.
